Quotes About Beauty

in the street of the sky night walks scattering poems

mr youse needn't be so spry concernin questions arty each has his tastes but as for i i likes a certain party gimme the he-man's solid bliss for youse ideas i'll match youse a pretty girl who naked is is worth a million statues

i shall imagine life is not worth dying,if (and when)roses complain their beauties are in vain but though mankind persuades itself that every weed's a rose,roses(you feel certain)will only smile

Buffalo Bill's defunct who used to ride a watersmooth-silver stallion and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat Jesus he was a handsome man and what i want to know is how do you like your blueeyed boy Mister Death

O sweet spontaneous earth

and from my thighs which shrug and pant a murdering rain leapingly reaches the upward singular deepest flower which she carries in a gesture of her hips)

O sweet spontaneous earth how often have the doting fingers of prurient philosophers pinched and poked thee , has the naughty thumb of science prodded thy beauty . how often have religions taken thee upon their scraggy knees squeezing and buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive gods (but true to the incomparable couch of death thy rhythmic lover thou answerest them only with spring)

Treat a man like dirt-he produces flowers.

the hills like poets put on purple thought against the magnificent clamor of day tortured in gold

All in green went my love of riding on a great horse of gold into the silver dawn.

sunlight is (life and day are)only loaned:whereas night is given(night and death and the rain are given;and given is how beautifully snow)

a pretty girl, who naked is is worth a million statues

when god lets my body be From each brave eye shall sprout a tree fruit that dangles therefrom the purpled world will dance upon Between my lips which did sing a rose shall beget the spring that maidens whom passion wastes will lay between their little breasts My strong fingers beneath the snow Into strenuous birds shall go my love walking in the grass their wings will touch with her face and all the while shall my heart be With the bulge and nuzzle of the sea

Noone beautiful ever hurries.

i St ep into the not merely immeasurable into the mightily alive the dear beautiful eternal night

though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens

Only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses. Nobody, not even the rain has such small hands.

i charge laughing. Into the hair-thin tints of yellow dawn, into the women-coloured twilight

i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.

lady through whose profound and fragile lips the sweet small clumsy feet of April came into the ragged meadow of my soul.

ropes of silver gliding from sunny thunder into freshness.

E.E. Cummings

your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

i will wade out till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers I will take the sun in my mouth and leap into the ripe air Alive with closed eyes to dash against darkness in the sleeping curves of my body Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery with chasteness of sea-girls Will i complete the mystery of my flesh I will rise After a thousand years lipping flowers And set my teeth in the silver of the moon